Unscripted
by Disney Ink
Summary: My name is Jasmine. I'm 17 and a senior. My life is going exactly as I planned. Not to say things couldn't be better- what with my parents being divorced and my siblings spread out across the country. But I still have my mom, friends and my future as a writer. Then Aladdin moved here. He's mysterious and a bit of a rebel and I fell hard. This was not part of my plan.
1. Chapter 1

_**Jasmine**_

* * *

Syracuse, California. (Southern California, right on the coast, to be exact.) And the center of Syracuse, California: Syracuse High School. At least it is for me and my friends. We're seniors now; this is our year. One last chance to partake in all of the staples that make up high school. And the time to begin thinking about our futures.

At least, for some of us.

As I'm flipping through the Syracuse University catalog on the way to school, my friend Charlotte La Bouff is chatting non-stop, from the driver seat of her pink convertible, about a frat party she went to over the weekend. Charlotte La Bouff is one of those girls who thinks high school is everything and can't see passed graduation. Despite the fact that she seems to go to a college party every weekend, she had no concept of college. But, Charlotte also has a wealthy father and a trust fund that's hers as soon as she turns eighteen. Charlotte doesn't see any reason to go to college or get a job since she already has money.

Not that I came from a poor family; my family is wealthy as well. My father owns a bank back in my hometown of Agrabah, Arizona. When my parents got divorced, my mom got a lot of money. But, she insisted on teaching me, my brothers and sister to be hard working and responsible. So she didn't spoil us. At least, not as much as Charlotte's father.

So I, on the other hand, cannont wait to go to college. My goal is to become a best-selling author. I'm going to major in English and minor in communications. My mom, Tuya, is a publicist for the largest book publishing company in the country. Through her I've been able to meet so many successful authors and learn so much. She's going to hire me as her assistant when I start school in the fall so I can learn the ropes, but she's still going to make me work to get my novel published. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Jasmine, are you even listening to me?"

I looked over at Charlotte. "Sorry, Lottie; I kinda spaced out."

Charlotte shrugged and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I asked you if you had any plans for this weekend."

"I'm going to the football game Friday night," I told her as I shoved the S.U. catalog into my messenger bag. "And I'm going to the boardwalk with Tiana on Saturday and then to Naveen's party Saturday night."

Charlotte started to say something, but then her cellphone started ringing. Charlotte was forever on the phone. She was the most popular girl in school because she was literally friends with everyone. Without taking her eyes off the road, Charlotte pulled her cellphone out of her purse and answered it.

"Tia, sugar, we're almost to your house... We're not _that_ late." Charlotte glanced at the clock on her car radio and then frowned. "Look, I promise I'll get us there on time... It's not my fault. My hair just wouldn't cooperate this morning." Charlotte rolled her eyes as, I'm assuming, Tiana started lecturing her.

Tiana is my best friend in the whole world. She was the very first friend I made when we moved here. I was in seventh grade and starting junior high at a new school with no friends. Embarrassed to eat lunch by myself, I spent it in the library; where I met Tiana. Tiana comes from a poor family and her parents can't afford to send her to college. So, even in seventh grade, she had begun SAT prep and working really hard to get good grades so she could go to college. All that studying paid off. She's now in the running for valedictorian. However, she's up against brainiac Milo Thatch. At the end of last year Milo pulled ahead of Tiana just a little bit and Tiana has been freaking out. She's afraid if she loses her standings she'll never get the scholarship to a prestigious cooking school in Los Angeles. Every morning she gets to school early to study and talk to all of her teachers about extra work she could do. A routine she started freshman year and was adamant about continuing right away senior year.

"Relax, Tia. I just pulled onto your street," Charlotte told her.

When we pulled up in front of Tiana's house, she was sitting on her front porch flipping through her history book. History was Milo's strong subject and where he was besting Tiana. Over the summer she began reading every history book she could find. Charlotte honked her horn. Tiana immediately jumped up and hurried over to the car. She got in the backseat and went back to reading her book.

"It's about time," Tiana muttered.

Charlotte glanced back at Tiana through her rear view mirror. "If you'd like, you can start taking the bus."

Tiana looked up and fixed her brown eyes on Charlotte. "Why don't you take anything seriously?"

"Why do you take everything _too _seriously?" Charlotte retorted.

Tiana didn't bother to answer that; we all knew the reason. The rest of the ride to school was, for the most part, quiet. Charlotte got a couple of phone calls making plans to meet up with different people before school started. But other than that none of us said anything. I love Tiana dearly, but she had a way of creating tension and making people around her uncomfortable. She didn't seem to ever notice, though. Sometimes she had a one-track mind and didn't notice much else.

When we got to school the first warning bell had just rung. Tiana made a bee-line inside. Charlotte met up with a group of junior girls and walked away with them, leaving me alone. Most of the other students had already gone inside and I was the only one left in the parking lot.

That is, until a pick up truck I had never seen before pulled into the parking lot. It took a spot near the entrance. I couldn't help being curious. I glanced over in time to see a boy jump down from the driver's seat. He had thick black hair and naturally tan skin. He was wearing ripped jeans, a plain black t-shirt and worn Chuck Taylors.

I had certainly never seen him before, but he was the most handsome man I had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Jasmine**_

* * *

There's a loud creaking sound as he closes the door of his pick-up. He must sense me looking at him, because he immediately glances over at me. We make eye contact briefly before I lower my eyes; my cheeks burning in embarrassment at being caught staring at him. I don't let myself look up again until I'm safely inside the school.

It occurs to me as I walk to my locker that he is probably new to Syracuse High and I should have introduced myself and offered to show him around. I think about turning around and doing just that, but I stop myself. I can't back track now, he would think I'm some sort of spazz or stalker. I shake my head, definitely deciding against going back, and continue on my way to my locker. When I get there I see my friend, Rapunzel. She has her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with two paint brushes stuck in the top. She's sitting on the floor concentrating hard on whatever she is drawing in her sketchbook.

If you couldn't tell by that brief description, Rapunzel is an artist. And a kick-ass one at that. She has won every school art contest she's entered. This past summer she entered in a local artists competition (after her initial protests and me practically having to fill out the submission form for her). The contest was for all artists on the SoCal coast. She came in second place and her submission piece was posted on the website of the renown local artist who ran the contest. Shortly afterwards she had various colleges from California and even New York, who were impressed with her work, seeking her out hoping she would attend their school when she graduated. But, Rapunzel already made up her mind about her future. She planned to take time off from school to go to Italy and France and take in their local art culture. She had been saving since she got her first babysitting job in sixth grade.

Because her last name is right after mine, alphabetically, our lockers have been right next to each other since freshman year and we've been seated next to each other in basically every class since then. We were also almost always partnered up for class projects. At first I thought Rapunzel was just a little _too_ eccentric, but after a while she grew on me and we became great friends.

Rapunzel doesn't notice me as I approach and continues drawing. I organize my books in my locker and grab what I need for my first two classes, before sitting down beside Rapunzel. She smiles at me, her green eyes literally sparkling. Rapunzel's mother is pure Irish and Rapunzel inherited her green eyes and fair skin. Her father is a mutt- bred of many nationalities- and that somewhat offsets her Irish traits. Instead of having freckles covering her skin like most Irish people, she only has a few freckles dusted over her nose. The freckle cliche holds true with Rapunzel, though; she hates them but everyone else thinks they're cute. Myself, included. At least, I think they're cute on her. I personally would hate have brown spots on my face (who wouldn't?), but Rapunzel is one of those girls who makes everything look cute.

"Two hundred and seventy days until we graduate," Rapunzel announces. "Eight months and twenty eight days until I begin the adventure I've been dreaming of my entire life." I didn't think it was possible, but her eyes sparkled even more as she said this. "I'm so close I can practically taste it!"

"Aren't you afraid of being in a foreign country by yourself?" I ask.

Rapunzel shakes her head as she goes back to drawing. I sneak a quick peek at her sketchbook and see she's drawing what she sees; legs of anonymous students as they walk passed the lockers directly across from us. "Not really," she says. "I'm sure I'll meet people once I get there."

I shrug. "Sure. People who prey on unexpecting American girls. One moment you're walking down a quiet French street, enjoying the stars, and the next- BAM! You're in the basement of a man who specializes in making American skin suits."

Rapunzel sighs and looks back up at me. "Are you suggesting that if I go to Europe alone I'm going to be killed and some local is going to wear my skin?"

I hold up my hand in surrender. "I'm not saying anything."

"Right." Rapunzel goes back to her drawing.

"But," I continue, "if I _were _saying something, that would be it."

Rapunzel rolls her eyes. "You watch too many horror movies, Jasmine."

"Or maybe you don't watch enough," I counter. "Horror movies are filled with ignorant people who could have avoided their immanent and gruesome deaths, if they had just watched horror movies."

Now Rapunzel laughs. She gives up on her drawing and closes the sketchbook, using her pencil as a book mark. "And you thought _I _was eccentric."

I give her a look of fake innocence. "I thought no such thing!"

"_Here _you are!"

Rapunzel and I look up to see Ariel; Rapunzel's best friend and favorite portrait subject. Ariel is beautiful with natural, vibrant, red hair and eyes the color of the ocean. She was one of those girls who was extremely photogenic and looked good in every picture, no matter what she was doing. Ariel and Rapunzel grew up living next door to each other and were best friends since before they could walk.

"Were you looking for me?" Rapunzel asks.

"Yes." Ariel's tone suggested her answer should have been obvious, but she didn't sound annoyed. "We were supposed to ride to school together this morning. I waited for you for a half an hour before going to your house and finding out you left already."

"Oh, Ariel, I'm sorry. My dad wanted to take me out for coffee before school so he drove me. I meant to text you."

Ariel waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine. Let's just get to class before the bell rings."

Rapunzel and I got to our feet. "I'll see you in English," Rapunzel says to me before she and Ariel walk away.

I slip my bag over my shoulder and hurry off to first period just as the bell rings.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Aladdin**_

* * *

The first bell rings and the hall outside of the school office suddenly becomes silent. As I wait for the guidance counselor, Mr. Smee, to see me, I can't help thinking about the girl I saw in the parking lot just a few minutes ago. She was beautiful; perfect even. At least, she seemed perfect from a distance. But, I know how those girls are; beautiful, popular, stuck-up, bitchy. I know the only reason she had even been looking at me is because of the embarrassing noises my truck makes. They're hard to ignore.

I've been trying to get my dad to buy me a new truck, but he's so busy with work he doesn't notice anything going on a round him. My mom died when I was a toddler of breast cancer. All of my parents' money went to hospital bills and then to funeral costs. It took my dad most of my life to work off the debt. But now he is the CEO of a major marketing company and worth billions. The only catch; he's never around. He works with other companies all over the world and is always trying to improve his image by visiting third world countries and helping (the word "helping" here means taking photos for magazines with) them.

Because of how poor we had been, how much debt he had, and the fact that he's only had this money for a few years, my father claims he needs to be more frugal with his money. Which means, staying in luxurious hotels and owning more than one house while his only son drives a truck that is more of a death trap than a vehicle.

A few moments later the door to the office swung open and another boy walked in. He strolled right up to the secretary's desk. He leaned forward on his elbow and gave the secretary a charming smile. She didn't look up from her computer.

"Good morning, Mary," the boy greeted. "May I call you Mary? I mean, we've spent so much time together; we really ought to be on a first name basis."

"No you may not," she said, still not looking up. "It's Mrs. Darling. I don't know why you're here, Mr. Rider; but I can't say I'm surprised. Take a seat and I'll let Mr. Hook know you're here. Again."

The Rider kid plopped down in the chair two down from me as Mrs. Darling knocked on the principal's door. She stuck her head into the office, whispered a few words, then returned to her desk. "Mr. Hook will be with you in a moment, Mr. Rider."

Rider slouched down in his seat and used the chair between us as an armrest. "The Hook man is completely harmless."

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. I look over at him. "Oh yeah?"

He nods. "He acts mean and tries to be intimidating, but he's a total pushover and easily manipulated."

"I see."

"You're new, right?"

"Right."

"I'm Flynn Rider."

"Aladdin."

He nods again and begins drumming his fingers on his knee- which is sticking out of a rather large hole in his jeans. "Syracuse is basically like every other high school. Same self-obsessed students and stuck-up teachers who get off on authority and will discipline you for no reason."

"Is that why you're here?" I ask. "In trouble for no reason?"

"Mr. Ratcliffe sent me here for drawing 'graffiti' on lockers." Flynn made air quotes around the word graffiti. "Graffiti! Ha! I'm an artist." He held up his wallet chain which had mini Sharpie markers in virtually every color hanging from it. "Besides it was _my _locker. I should be able to express myself in any way I choose."

Before I can think of something to say to that, Mr. Smee sticks his head out of his office and calls me inside. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and walk into the office. Mr. Smee is a short man with long white sideburns and small spectacles on the edge of his big nose. He's wearing a pair of pressed blue pants and a striped polo shirt that's too small for him and every time he moves his large stomach peeks out from the bottom.

Mr. Smee motions for me to take a seat and I do. I listen to him go on and on about what a great school Syracuse High is and how glad they are to have me. By "me", of course, they mean my dad's money. After twenty minutes of pointless chit-chat, Mr. Smee gives me my schedule and a map of the school and finally sends me on my way.

There's still ten minutes left of homeroom and I decide it's not worth showing up at this point. As I'm walking towards my locker I see that I'm not the only person who decided to ditch homeroom. The last person I expect to see (or want to see for that matter) is walking down the hall towards me. I'm right beside the boys' bathroom, so I quickly duck inside.

I stop abruptly in my tracks when I realize I'm not alone. A hot brunette girl is standing beside the small open window, smoking.

"I get that a lot," she says, motioning to the shocked look on my face. "The girls' bathroom doesn't have a window." She takes a drag of her cigarette and then leans forward to blow the smoke out the window.

I can't help but check her out. She has a fit body and as she bends over to pick up her backpack off the floor her cleavage spills out of the top of her tank top. She flushes her cigarette butt down the toilet, then turns her attention back to me.

"Did you come in here just to stand around?" she asks.

"No. I just saw my ex girlfriend in the hallway," I explain. "I'm new and I didn't know she goes to this school."

"Who is your ex girlfriend?"

"Her name is Vanessa."

The girl nods knowingly. "Vanessa is _every_ boy's ex girlfriend. She gets around."

"Yeah. I caught her cheating on me over the summer with some guy named Eric. I guess he owns a yacht."

"I'm guessing you don't know Eric goes to this school, too?" I nod. "All right," she says. "Follow my lead."

The brunette reaches over and messes up my hair before unbuttoning the top button of my jeans and making my shirt look disheveled. She takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom. Vanessa is standing at a nearby locker and looks up at us as we walk out.

"Aladdin?" she asks, hesitantly. "I didn't know you transferred here."

"Today's my first day," I say.

Vanessa eyes my appearance and then glares at the girl beside me. The girl whispers into my ear, "Grab my ass; try to make this look convincing." And I do so. She makes a big show of kissing me in front of Vanessa and then walks away, leaving Vanessa staring after her with a faint jealous shade of green on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Aladdin**_

* * *

I survive my first day at Syracuse High. Flynn had been right; it was just like my old school. I had P.E. and lunch with Flynn and ASL with the girl in the parking lot. I'm not sure how sign language can count as a language class; I wanted to take Spanish, but being transferred late meant I got stuck with whatever class was left. Although, having the girl from the parking lot in the class helped. At the very least, I had something nice to look at it when the class got boring. I never saw the mysterious girl from the bathroom again after this morning. I had lunch with Vanessa, but she was careful to avoid me.

However she did make a point to drape herself all over Eric and make out with just a couple tables away from me. I hate him. Eric is one of those guys who could have literally any girl he wants, so why did he have to steal _my _girlfriend? And why did she let herself be stolen away? If I were to be completely honest with myself, I'd have to admit I miss Vanessa. We were together for six months, so it wasn't exactly easy for me to just get over her. She had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world that meant anything to her. On top of that, she was hot. She had long, dark brown hair, perfect skin and a petite body that she knew how to use. I lost my virginity to Vanessa. Although, we had both been drunk and I don't really remember it. We only did it the one time. I had wanted more, but she said she didn't want to feel like a slut. It makes me laugh now thinking about how she was probably hooking up Eric at the time. I suppose I should be glad we never slept together again; who knows who else she had been with?

When the final bell rings, I gather my stuff and head out of the classroom. When I get to my locker, there is a curvy blonde waiting for me. She smiles at me, revealing perfect teeth.

"You're Aladdin," she says.

"Yeah," I mutter, working the combination on my locker. "And you are...?"

"Charlotte La Bouff. I wanted to welcome you to Syracuse High School."

I give her a half-hearted smile. "You're, like, the fifteenth person to welcome me to Syracuse today."

She smiles back at me. "Of course. It's been a while since we've had a new student." She pulls out what looks like a business card and hands it to me. "I'm head cheerleader, student council president and chairman of the senior activities board. If you ever need anything at all, I'll more than happy to help."

I study the card and realize it basically is a business card. It has her name in curvy pink font at the top with her cellphone number and email address underneath. On the back it lists the credentials she just rattled off to me. "What is the senior activities board?"

"We plan all of the extra activities for the senior class. Like the senior spring break trip."

This had my attention. "There's going to be a spring trip?"

Charlotte giggled. "Of course. There's one every year."

"Where is it this year?"

"We haven't decided, yet. But, if you're interested, we're going to Colorado for a ski trip over winter break."

"I'm definitely interested."

"Great!" Charlotte reaches into her backpack, which looks more like an overgrown purse, and pulls out a small packet of paper. "Here's all of the information. We need your signed permission slip and fee by Thanksgiving."

"No problem."

"We'll also be holding a fundraising car wash for the trip next weekend. We could use all the help we can get." Charlotte smiles at me expectantly.

"Count me in," I say.

"Fabulous! We'll see you then." Charlotte gives me a quick hug. "It was nice meeting you, Aladdin."

"You, too."

After Charlotte walks away, I read over the information for the ski trip. Each student has to pay $500 for their own lodging. The fundraisers are to help raise money to pay for the bus. I know I can easily get the money, but getting my dad's signature for the permission trip will be more difficult. He would give me permission, of course (he really doesn't care what I do); it was just a matter of whether of not I'll actually see him in person before the deadline to get his signature.

I shove the papers into my backpack and make my way out of the school. By the time I reach the parking lot, most of the students have already left and it's almost empty. I see Flynn standing next to the fence that separates the parking lot from the football field. He's talking to a cheerleader on the other side of the fence who is fidgeting with her blue and black pom-pom. As I walk to my truck, Flynn notices me and calls me over to the fence. I toss my backpack into the bed of the truck and walk over to him.

"Aladdin, this is Crysta. Crysta, this is Aladdin; he's new."

Crysta is a tiny girl with short black hair and big green eyes. She extends her hand to me. "It's nice to meet you."

I shake her hand. "You, too."

"I hope you'll make it to the game Friday night," Crysta says. "It's the first one of the season."

I open my mouth to tell her I'm not really interested in watching high school sports games, but Flynn answers before I can. "He'll be there."

Crysta lights up. "Great! I have to get back to practice, but I'll see you both Friday night."

"Can't wait," Flynn tells her.

Crysta gives us a small wave and runs over to where the rest of the cheerleaders are warming up.

"I think I'm going to skip the game," I tell Flynn as we walk back to my truck.

"You're going. I heard about the whole Vanessa thing and you need a girl- pronto," Flynn says. "I've been friends with Crysta for a while; I know she'd do me a favor and hook you up with one of the girls on the squad."

I don't argue with Flynn. Dating a cheerleader would be a good way to show Vanessa I'm completely over her; even if I'm not.


End file.
